Page 8 of His Queen

“We might,” I reply. “They will lose far more than us. Phase one is just the beginning. Their supply chain is going to be disrupted, thanks to our renewed friendship with the Peacocks. It’s simple economics.”

“Supply and demand?” He asks, intrigued.

“Yes Clay, supply, demand, inflation.”

Clay gulps.

I continue, “You see, I plan to turn them against one another. Opposition will mean punishment. The vast majority will see joining me as lucrative and beneficial. Inflation costs more than the price they pay for protection. Defying me will be dangerous. Do you understand now? Do you understand why we must start a war?”

“Yes. I understand,” Clay answers, sounding deflated. That will teach him to listen to Harvey about standing up to me.

“Good.” My tone is ice cold. It’s a warning for questioning me. He might be my right hand, but he should know better than to question me. “And Clay, put the word out if anyone wants to come for my head. I’ll be waiting. They can meet me at an address that I will provide Monday night, at nine on the second Monday of every month.”

“Christian, that’s asinine. I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s impulsive and reckless. Quinn will not be happy about this.”

“The second Monday of every month,” I snarl through gritted teeth.

“The second Monday,” he nods. “Understood.”

“Tell them Clay…make sure they know the only way they are going to take me down is if they send their best men.” I give him a wink.

“What are you going to do if they send their best Christian? We won’t stand a chance. Our numbers are still depleted from our run in with Le Manchot,” Clay says.

“Don’t you worry about that, buddy. I have a plan.” My lips turn up in a sinister smile.

“Is that a secret too, or are you going to remember that I am your best friend? I only have your best interest at heart?”

I give clay a slap on the back and squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll tell you what. If you agree to quit getting sappy on me, and promise not to take any more friendship advice from Harvey, then I will tell you.”

“I promise,” Clay responds without hesitation.

“It would be a shame if they sent their best men. It would be an even bigger shame if those same men walked into the lion’s den.”

Clay’s jaw falls open. “A trap!”

“A dirty, rotten trap,” I smirk.

“Christian, the Don is going to be proud of that.”

“I know,” I gloat.

“You know, when word gets out, everyone is going to come even harder for you?”

“I know Clay, but we will be ready for them. It’s not the only trick I have up my sleeve.”

“I need to know what else you have cooked up.” Clay is practically begging me to tell him everything.

“I’m sorry Clay, there are something’s I can’t tell you yet. In good time, I will tell you everything you want to know as soon as I can.” I’m telling him the truth. I intend to tell him everything, just as soon as I figure the rest of it out. I will figure it out; I always do. For now, we only need to worry about phase one. There will be plenty of time to worry about phase two.

We ride in silence for the next few minutes. The moment we cross the border into the criminal district, the driver rolls down the divider.

“We are here,” he says, gruffly. “Anywhere specific, or will this be a drive by?”

“It will be a drive through while I decide who to target first. Be ready to out drive some motherfuckers.”

“You got it, boss,” he answers, leaving the partition rolled down.

Chapter eleven

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